apathy

No God's Sky

A superheated mantle, composed of the most lustrous shades of rose, amethyst and lapis churned in gaseous fury as the array of sensory receptors that lined the length of its oblong carapace passively observed its actions. Electromagnetic bursts cascaded forth from the roiling cloud as the form of Ua continued its orbit around Q'ab's star. The moment of Convergence had arrived once more, and its role in the Eternal Rite must be fulfilled once again. Ua's advent into this plane of existence had begun with a series of fermion pairs finding their polemic counterparts; fluctuating with such quantum friction that the superfluid vacuum of space tore at its very seams, causing a distortion around Ajana, the star.

Through this tear Ua was suspended in a quasi-corporeal form. It had oft considered the frequency at which this universe operated on to be discordant, and sought to expedite its duties as to return to the comfort of a more harmonious plane of existence. From the squamous husk that composed the entirety of its mass, spectral strands of undulating tendrils slithered from innumerable openings. The distance between its appendages and Ajana became suffused with its spread, an ever growing blot against its luminosity. Quantum strata fractured as Ua vibrated violently, a phantasmagoric patina pouring out from each aperture, encasing the star in an intricate network of bioelectric tissue; fresh capillaries running through the length of the quivering mass, harvesting Ajana's energies in order to power its processes.

Its appetite voracious and growth exponential. Ua coldly noted that it had already encompassed a large portion of Ajana and prepared itself for the rest of the Rite. From within its depths there began a terrible tremble. Its resonance increased in intensity, the pulses emanating from its epicenter running through the length of its tendrils and spreading across the surface of sloughed skin. A nightmarish beat was brought about, and with each new wave of force a metamorphic process was underway. The Rite could not be stopped.

===

The crisp crack of a vacuum seal being broken. There were few sounds more enjoyable, once given proper context. This was the.. ele-twelfth such sound in the past hour. It'd been quite some time since a job had fallen into his lap and Ophidian didn't mind spending that time drinking himself into oblivion. Or as much as the prosthetics in his hunched form would allow. A calloused and gnarled hand lifted the container to his gaping maw and drained its contents in one swig. A stream of neon ran down the corner of his razor-thin lips; a putrid combination of Nvarian muskglands and liquid brillium.

A chime cut across the courtyard that gave way to the soft rumble of an ozone generator. It signaled a proximity breach; something having entered the orbit of the small moon he had settled comfortably outside of Cizran space. He turned at the hips, the muscles of his neck being so thick that turning it was saved for the most dramatic of moments.

"Lars." His voice; an asteroid adrift in solar wind. Something comforting yet distinctly authoritative. In response, a contemplative and morose modulation of a male voice. "Sir, it seems a courier drone has entered our airspace and is bearing towards our position. Shortburst broadcast says it's Cizran. More specifically, from Su-Lahn.:

A shrill whistle escaped his pursed mouth and he brushed away the neon trail with a hairy forearm. He hopped out a hammock he'd strung between the broken fuselage of a wrecked cargo cruiser. Much of his surroundings seemed to be refurbished wreckage from vessels of various make, juxtaposing a collage of clashing colors against the barren landscape of the satellite. A soft creaking followed his movements as he stopped in the center of the open yard, turning his blind eye towards the ever nearing beacon of light that was the drone.

It came to a hovering halt, before descending until level with Ophidian. Even though it was a simple courier drone, Ophidian could feel the cold contempt of Cizra Su-Lahn emanating from its reflective hull. A sliver appeared on its surface, from which the full terms of his contract was holographically projected. Ophidian gave the document a once over, or to be more accurate his obfuscated gaze paused over the scrolling text before giving an affirmative grunt. The drone chimed in response before ascending; waiting to be picked up by a passing ship to deliver its contract to Su-Lahn.

Several more chimes, matching the proximity alert from earlier, followed its departure. The first of several thousand forms were being delivered, the ambiguous nature of Cizran bureaucracy reflected in the byzantine by-laws and statutes that were in constant flux. Lars would have to dedicate a whole section of his servers to processing all this Nvarshit for the next several cycles, feeding the pertinent information to the display in Ophidian's eyepatch.

Within moments he was strapped into the cockpit of his launchship, cracking open another container as he awaited for the transgalactic loadout he kept in orbit to be properly aligned with his launch. A splash of foam fell across his lap and on to heavily stained pants, made from a repulsive magenta striped hide. How he squeezed into them is unknown, but they're the source of the soft creaking sound that followed him.

"Lars, where we headed?"
"Gereza, sir."

Ophidian spat neon across the console. Its hydrophobic surface and Lars were nonplussed, as this was a frequent occurrence.

"Why didn't you tell me I was agreeing to a job there?"
"Security logs show you looking at the contract and agreeing."
"You know I'm fucking blind!"

Panels of atmospheric shields slid in place over the cockpit's viewports, a live feed of the space surrounding the ship projected against the interior of the shields. The time to back out had long passed and both of them knew it. Ophidian activated all primary and secondary functions of his eyepatch, synching up with the flight computer as an orb of pure energy appeared above the apex of the ship. Its surface crackled with electric fury before lurching upwards; Ophidian and his ship immediately in orbit surrounding his moonbase. With a thought, both modules of the ship interlocked and he was on his way towards Gereza.

===

Xo'pil paced back and forth in the small quarters he had been provided with, knowing full well that his apparent freedom was nothing more than a show. If he were to attempt to leave this place.. Well, he wouldn't attempt to. The furnishings might have meant to be comforting, but he knew the feeling of a cage. He had no clue as to how long he had been held before being transported here. Frankly, he didn't know where "here" was. He assumed from the stagnant quality to the air he was aboard a ship, but bound to where?

He'd been left alone with his thoughts for some time and was far too embroiled in them to notice that Plangó had appeared within a corner of his quarters. His light seemed suffused, as if projecting himself through a fog.The form he took now was one he had reserved for the most intimate of moments between the two, vaguely bipedal in form while the swarm of his collective seemed to be in a deep trance. He gave the softest of sighs before speaking.

"Oh, Little Prince, what have you done? What has gotten into that mind of yours that would let you think such heresy would go unpunished? And why at that clod's gala, at that? He couldn't appreciate the work of a master like yourself, darling Prince. You know, he wanted you put to death right then and there. We're both lucky he's dense enough to let me get you off-world. But everyone knows of your hubris, and your presence on Su-Lahn is already envisioned."

"So we're on our way to Su-Lahn?" The panic was evident in his voice and he barred his teeth, an Azot tendency when threatened.

"You will be. I am not, at least not aboard the Vepsis Dol. No, we're still in orbit around Q'ab. I've delayed its departure for this brief meeting. I'll be quick, so listen carefully. Say nothing to anyone and await my arrival on Su-Lahn. I'll see you through this as far as I can. I still hold much sway with the Siab." The shimmering silhouette turned away and began to fade. Before he had completely vanished, he quipped, "Oh, and Little Prince, you're quite welcome."

The light in the room fluctuated midly with his disappearance, and in his place were three orbs that danced about one another in an elliptical orbit. Xo broke out into laughter as he rose then cried excitedly, "Epit'li!"

===

Through the meticulous manipulation of its viscera, Ua began to layer a rhythm over the percussive wave that it had produced. Its form was both conductor and instrument, and its cadence was one of creation. The strands that it had extended were severed as the first wave of mutation swept over the malignancy that had come to Ajana. The amalgamate of organic and mechanical engineering swelled and throbbed in unison to the Rite, and with each beat the flesh assumed a new form. One that expanded outward exponentially until an area twice the size of the star was encased in a pulsating womb.

Ua's performance had reached a fervor unseen within the confines of this dimension in countless millenia. As its crescendo neared, a new opening in the carapace appeared. It was an approximation of an eye, ancient and terrible in its wisdom. Beneath its surface teemed an intelligence motivated by the unfathomable as it rotated its mass, turning its monstrous gaze to distant Q'ab. Existence stilled as Ua's exaltations had reached a violent apex, and an eerie calm befell the engulfed star.. only for a moment before it shook apart at a subatomic level, sloughing off to reveal an engine of empyrean design. Fully operational, the engine began its daunting task of rearranging the order of the cosmos.

Collapsing in on itself, Ua shed its corporeal shackles briefly as it traveled across the expanse between Ajana and Q'ab, as pure information broadcast through the first solar windburst expelled by the reified star. It took shape once more; repugnant mass against a gleaming emerald orb.

===

Within the glimmering grip of a taloned hand, Ec-Shavar examined the extracted slaver implant. A detached amusement took hold; he was ensured to benefit from the abdication of Potan Mul's station, inheriting the vast swathe of resources the former Avi'lys had been notorious for. Such strategic positioning would allow for a glorious return to Su-Lahn. Complacency has taken hold amongst the Si'ab. He would root it out. But now was not the time to delve into such thoughts. Now was the time to gloat, for he also had the added pleasure of seeing disgrace befall the name of Plangó Felho'Te-vesztø. His pet's subversive outburst would see it suffer, most assuredly for an indefinite amount of time. As complacent as Su-Lahn has become, special measures were always reserved for those who sought to sow heretical thought. If only he could be there to relish in the saprifit's suffering.

A familiar tug on his consciousness informed Ec-Shavar of his former protege's proximity. They found themselves within an open courtyard, part of the estate Plangó had taken over in his short sojourn on Q'ab. He turned a cold eye towards the skies, following the stream of trace energy emitted by the Vespis Dol's sankuls. The soft warmth of Plangó's form was an unusual sensation. The two stood in silence; column of luminous lepidoptera and majestic mantidae. The bent forms of Q'ush servitors rushed to and fro in the adjacent launching pad, moving the last of Plangó's possessions on board his personal shuttle.

"I see you've returned from visiting the saprifit, having circumvented my commands to have it imprisoned in a Gerezan cell. Your adroitness knows no end."
"With just a gentle word in the right ear, much can be accomplished. And when kind words fail, there is always the burden of the Ja'regia."

Ec-Shavar's mandibles gave an audible click of contempt. "True deference can only be gained through the application of strength and fear."
"How unimaginative." Plangó retorted, a stream of aquamarine passing across a fluttering field of rose.

Ec-Shavar weighed his response, one that would not come as the two Cizrans attentions were turned skywards. A dark satellite had appeared, dwarfing Q'ab's moons several times over. In that instant, through the subtle exercise of their empathic organ, the Cizrans established an emotional clarity, their disparate psyches intermingling; a vestige of what they had been before the Kr'Nalus. A flash of emotion was exchanged; fear and avarice.

An ill wind began to blow across Q'ab...

===

The serrated edge of a matte black blade slid across the exposed servos of a custodial droid; a fine mist of hydraulic fluid spraying into the air, beading down Ophidian's broad forearms as he gently set the crumpling form down. It convulsed violently then laid still, the soft whirr of its engines coming to a halt.

"Sir... We're tasked with infiltrating the prison complex with minimal expenditure."
"Yeah- and?"
"That's the tenth droid you've destroyed."
"No witnesses."
"But you're going out of your way for most of them. You actually spent the past ten minutes circling back to 'get the drop on him'."
"You're no fun anymore, Lars."

They had entered Gereza's orbit some hours before, having decided on entering the facility through its waste disposal sector. From there he'd navigate the sewage system, working his way towards the cell block he'd been briefed on. Ophidian had spent the better part of the journey here ignoring Lars drone on and on about the type of defenses he'd come up against and what to expect.

Ophidian wiped the blade dry before sheathing it as he pulled up a mini-map of his current position within the complex. The loadout was displayed against the opaque canvas of his eyepatch, and he gave it a studious glance. He took a knee as he observed two new droids gather below, the omni-directional microphone built in to his eyepatch registering their conversation audible.

"I tell you, Xi-229, if I have to work another triple shift, it won't matter how much M.I.L.K they ply me with. I'm gonna fry my own servos and risk being scrapped. It'll beat having to deal with Cig-agonizing."

Xi-229 gave a short chirp of agreement as it reclined against a hover-lift that was overloaded with barrels of industrial waste. "It's probably not the wisest decision to cut corners on security in a facility like this, but what do I know? As soon as we had less guards on rotation so they could bluster around that Vhadgeid and relied more on remote surveillance we started losing more and more personnel. I'll deactivate my olfactory receptors but I can still feel the stink of what's leftover after an inkling gets past the sewage defense grid and gets a hold of a carby."

The Cizrans needed to run a tighter ship it seems, or maybe looser? Ophidian left the machinations of upper management to the boring types, he was meant for greater things. Greater things like throwing himself over the rail and crashing atop the two chatting synths below, crushing them with poise.

"What did I just say?" Lars intoned over the comms.

===

Ua had arrived, and with it came the devastation of the plasma created by Ajana. Within moments, Q'ab's atmosphere began to be stripped away by the high levels of radiation being emitted by the new satellite within its orbit. A reckoning of electromagnetic fury had come to the planet and with it the refinement of another resource indispensable for the Rite. Its eye reflected upon its actions with unfeeling precision as a beam of highly condensed light erupted forth from its pupil and bored its way through Zoldnach's mountain range, exposing rich deposits of shalam. The emerald mineral began to pulse with a violent light as it was enriched by the introduction of a second energy source. Deep cracks ran through the foundations of the city, spreading like spindly fingers to throttle the Veldt. The caves that served as homes for the Q'ush began to flood. The planet thrashed in pangs of metamorphic agony while darkness waxed.

Once more Ua resonated: if left unaided, Q'ab's instability would increase exponentially until the planet would erupt in Cherenkov brilliance. Such an outcome would hinder the continued operation of the Rite. A heavy lid fell over its monstrous eye as self-contained waves of bass created a mandelbrot interference pattern. From within the unfathomable depths of the fractal appeared the gross caricature of a mouth; twisted in its design. The mouths were legion and from them flowed a single note, and it was cataclysm.

===

"What has your wa'ali done?!" Ec-Shavar turned, hunger and shock in equal measure tainting his tone. A talon jabbed at the satellite's position, in its epicenter was an eye. One they had seen before, during Xo'pil's performance. If a simulacra of the eye held such power, what would one of such magnitude wield? Plangó was unable to respond as a scream tore through the darkening sky, followed closely by explosions from the concussive force of the eye's beam bombarding Zoldnach. The ground grew unstable while the Q'ush threw themselves upon it in prostration and uttered prayers in their hideous reptilian tongue.

Ec-Shavar unfurled his diaphanous wings and rose high above the courtyard. He watched in mute admiration as destruction swept through the city. Photons glittered in the dissipating atmosphere, the blast of energy diminishing into darkness. The far-off Veldt swayed in the might of perilous gales, mimicing the zealotry of the indigenous Q'ush. Wings wrestled against the tempest, holding him aloft so that he might witness more of what true power was capable of. This was what he had sought for so long. It would be his. It was his will and reality was an extension of said will.Yet even the mightiest wills yield when met with fear; and this was terror of the unknown incarnate. The eye had sealed and in its stead arose... mouths. Too many to count. Too many to be possible. Their proportions were crude and they seemed to spin on a broken axis. Its eldritch enunciation the source of a paroxysm of terror that permeated all of Q'ab.

The silence that befell the planet lasted for what felt like an eternity, only to be pierced by the roar of rushing water.

===

A churning began, deep beneath the surface of Q'ab's furious oceans. Tumultuous tremors wracked the ocean bed, a latticework of freshly formed fault-lines expelling super-heated shalam, its familiar emerald glow replaced with scintillating sapphire splendor. The lines widened into rivers, which begat valleys that crumbled and gave way to abyssal horror.

Ua's lips came together, ending its utterance. It beheld the product of its labor, the once-emerald orb that was Q'ab refined into a lustrous sapphire, suspended within a sphere of water vapor it had brought into being. The lid of its eye lifted, and with it the sapphire surged, a second beam piercing through the surrounding cloud and shooting off into space towards distant Ganaxavori. Once more Ua shed its corporeal form, accompanying the beam on its voyage.

===

Plangó's form flitted through the courtyard, every organism of his being bristling whilst producing a kaleidoscopic pyrotechnic display with the intended effect of temporarily stunning whoever was foolish enough to look upon him. A strobing phantasmagoria, Plangó entered his personal shuttle and continued towards the storeroom where his personal effects had been loaded. With ever-increasing fervor, he flung his collection of sculptures and other aesthetic necessities aside with nary a thought to their condition. This continued until he found the item of his search. A painting of Su-Lahn, its contents were ever-shifting. It floated aloft until the desired image came into focus; an obfuscated chamber. A bead of light grew from the center of Plangó's being out of which was extended a hand that quickly pressed against the canvas.

The frame dropped to the floor with a clatter, the supply room darkening as Plangó's form disappeared moments before the vessel fell into a crater as the city crumbled.

No God's Sky

Within the grand scheme of the great web, Ulu'gol knew that this night would be amongst the worst in the series of terrible experiences and decisions that would eventually lead him to a life of self-imposed solitude. It had been meant to be the turning point in his career, a triumphant return to the limelight after having been cast out by talentless usurpers and their simpering idolizers. He, along with a few of his "peers", had been commissioned by the estate of Ec-Shavar to commemorate his recent conquest of Ganaxavori and the cementing of diplomatic ties with Q'ab, the extravagance of the night being one of many concessions made to prevent the devastation that had marked much of Cizran history. All of his aspirations were dashed on the rocks, figuratively and in a sense, literally, as that monstrous stone-eater destroyed his masterpiece and nearly his life.

Lidless eyes watched in budding horror as the stilted form of the "Prince of Flowers" lurched towards him. The fine hairs on Ulu'gol's cephalothorax bristled as he observed Xo'pil stagger towards the crowd of fawning socialites and sycophants, a drink having appeared in one hand with its contents dangerously close to being splashed across those gathered. The fool always made a spectacle of himself at each of his showings, and his behavior only seemed to enamore the Cizrans more with their prodigal pet. Especially that Plangó; who catered to his every eccentricity and afforded him deep pockets and even deeper protection amongst the more scrutinizing aspects of the empire.

With nauseatingly impeccable timing, the diminutive furball quipped as Ec-Shavar's boisterous introduction came to an end about the odds of the night ending with the jingoistic Cizran ramming his flagship into the gallery, in a gross misunderstanding of artistic interpretation. A polite round of nervous laughter was elicited from the group as the artists met gazes. Xo'pil's face split into a wide grin as he wrapped his arms around one of Ulu'gol's injured legs, embracing it tightly. "Oh, take a look at you! You poor bastard, what have these mutants done to you?" The Azot gave the polished metal of a hovercast a curious series of knocks. "Couldn't get a new piece out of you, so they've strung you up on display have they?"

The alakast's pedipalps rubbed against one another anxiously as he spoke, his voice modulated slightly due to the encumberance of the breathing apparatus he'd been outfitted with to prolong his existence. His words came between shuddering breaths, the rasp of the air intake lost within the sea of casual conversation and soft music. "I... am honored... and gracious... for the hospitality... and understanding... the Q'ush have... shown me..." Internally, he seethed at the mock familiarity and undoubtedly dishonest interest for his well-being. He grimaced, or he would've if he'd had the proper anatomy, as Xo'pil ignobly downed the rest of his drink with a sharp toss of his head and immediately beckoned for two more.

Ulu'gol shifted his weight in an attempt to escape Xo's attention when the gravitational repulsor engines of several of his hovercasts failed and he found himself now backed into a corner of the gallery, watching the ethereal forms of Ec-Shavar and Plangó moving amongst the rabble, seemingly deep in conversation with one another as the exuberant voice of Xo'pil ranted and raved about some moment of divine inspiration, or intervention, he couldn't quite follow as the Azot's behavior deteriorated within minutes until he was little more than a wildly gesticulating spectacle that slowly wandered off into the crowd, mumbling something about a womb of ignorance.

"That... could have been... worse...", he said aloud, and as if in response, the remaining engines faltered and he crashed to the ground with a thunderous squelch, a raspy rattle of air escaping his mandibles.

***

"I sense a weakening of your spirit." The words hung in the air despite the commotion in the room. The empathic bond shared between the two Cizrans had fluctuated subtly as Plangó Felho'Te-vesztø made a circuit around the gallery. What was normally a rushing spring of sensory and emotional information had waned to a trickle. It was an unfamiliar and unpleasant sensation, something akin to having his psyche scoured, micron by micron. He approached his host, a resplendent column of kaleidoscopic majesty, and began to keep pace with him, the other guests giving them a wide berth as they conversed.

"To the contrary, never have I been so mighty." The response was a worrisome one. Much could be made from the statement, and in their history Ec-Shavar had always been one to measure his words and actions to the utmost degree. It was his shrewd, tactical mind that had seen him survive several wars since the Kr'Nalus, the great rendering. The skein of Plangó's memories stretched out before him, plucking from them the rich fruits of their past. It was an epoch whose tenets had been emblazoned into the cultural psyche of the Cizrans, an event of such magnitude whose worship had always seemed profane to the Governor. It was a fall from grace he, and the Xo'Xan sought to rectify.

Ec-Shavar stood tall as a pillar of might during turbulent times for the empire. Many of their host had been lost during the Kr`Nalus and its repercussions would be felt throughout the empire for centuries. One of which was the need to reconquer many of the worlds they had dominated during their time as a collective; and it was during one of the last campaigns that he found himself serving under Ec-Shavar in an official capacity as liaison for the Av'sti, an Inquisitorial branch of the Church whose upper echelons were hidden amongst a veil of bureaucratic and mystic nature.

"That is surprising, considering the term mighty has not been used in conjunction with a Xo'Xan in eons." There had never been a need for much political navigation before the time of Kr'Nalus, but the sudden development of differing opinions and viewpoints saw much in-fighting occur between the former Cizran host as lines began to be drawn and sides taken. One of the many factions to arise at this time had been the Xo'Xan, a hubristic group of zealots who saw in themselves aspects of divinity manifest, and sought to constantly change themselves until such a time that divinity had been attained. They subjugated and quantified every species across the empire, taking from them whatever advantageous anomalies their genetic code contained, while exterminating others as wasteful aberrations.

The words held a tinge of contempt and more than a slight lack of courteousness. He doubted that Plangó had come just to exchange barbs; there must have been another reason for his coming. The recent attempt on Ec-Shavar's life, combined with all the other difficulties as of late compelled him to consolidate his power, something he always did when he felt threatened. And what was power in Cizran society if not information; its applications and withholdings tantamount to the finest of maneuvers in any battlefield. He decided it would be best to draw in his opponent, playing off of his well-deserved notoreity for treachery and subterfuge. He bristled theatrically, with all the subtlety of a slorax in heat, as they paused to observe the controlled orbits of a troupe of dancers, their choreographed movements interpolated within the design of the Cizran homeworlds, projected over them as an ever-shifting hologram. It replayed the sequence of galactic events that had led up to the Kr'Nalus, or an approximation of them as much of their records of the time suffered from its backlash.

"To talk of might is to not truly comprehend it, and delusions of grandeur are hardly becoming of a being whose most recent accolades have been won by the works of a Wa'ali." He unfurled a gleaming talon and pointed it towards Xo'pil just as he sent a wave of shudders through the group surrounding him, undoubtedly speaking of great grotesqueries.

"I have no qualms in admitting that all of the accolades bestowed upon me are completely unnecessary, and symptomatic of an antiquated social system that continues to fail us." If Plangó had had eyes, it was at this moment that he would have sharpened them in a predatory fashion. Instead of any overt visual cues, the hues at the fringes of his being pulsed in hypnotic patterns. "We both know how long it takes for the Noema to affect change in policy, and even longer for it to be implemented." Too much and his words would be fragrantly blasphemous. A gentle hand would be needed to gleam anything relevant. "Just look at how long it took to move away from the slaughterous history of the Xo'Xan. To think of all the culture that was lost, of what hidden knowledge we could have discovered had there been a patient Si'ab amongst the Av'Ilys to stay such careless hands. Yet rationality prevailed and we find ourselves at new heights, bolstered by the wit and craft of those you defame as Wa'ali. This is why it's been...Ah, the years escape me. Just how long has it been since you've beheld the grandeur of Su-Lahn's Ja'regia. Since you've strolled through the gardens of Rumai, who spent the better part of his countless years perfecting his art, finding the most beautiful specimens across our lands. How long, Xo'Xan?"

By this time their conversation had taken them in a full lap around the gallery and they found themselves upon a balcony overlooking one of the estate's molten pools and just as Ec-Shavar turned coldly to respond, another round of trumpets and a dimming of the lights brought all attention in the room to the kneeling form of Xo'pil, a gnarled staff within his hands. Behind him was the towering form of a shrouded structure, the masterpiece of the night so many had gossiped about. It was time for the unveiling.

***

The room was hushed as the hooded figure that was their focal point began to speak, his gaze steadied on the end of gnarled staff clutched within his grasp. Five ominous raps against the artificial surface of the gallery floor. Thoughts rose to empyreal heights only to crash against the rocks of his consciousness as Xo'pil, an apt description of the cognitive dissonance he was experiencing. His words tonight would most likely be his last before a Cizran audience.The extent of its circumstances an uncertain knot of probabilities he would have Epit'li working on if he'd had time for repairs. Huilo was drained from his work on the unveiling...Recognition came crashing upon him as he remembered where he was and resolved himself to the tides of fate.

"Civilization is in collapse. This collapse is well documented: by philosophers and scientists, novelists and artists. Through this collapse, at the precipice of insanity, are those who organize to quantify all civic life into a continuum of warfare. Of conquest. Galaticists work alongside military specialists to better prevent or control the slightest disturbances. They seek to continue if not further present cycles of exploitation. To quantify all experience to more readily assess and ajudicate. They do not see the inherent absurdity in such actions."

As he paused and gave his words a moment to sink, a minute parade of ideograms began to spiral out from the center of the pristine white robes he wore. The script seemed to be in a constant state of agitation, undergoing rapid changes yet somehow maintaining a fluid artistry in their fluctuations. The further they spread from the epicenter, the duller their colors became; beginning with bright and bombastic hues of orange and yellow that cooled to a golden hue.

"Our conception of reality is flawed. We begin with the world, made up of external beings. The world outside ourselves. But we ourselves are also a thing, which exist in analogy with the other things that surround us, coming to a consensus on the nature of reality. But there is a presence to us which is not a thing; self-awareness. The thoughts with which we think. Consciousness. We are an abstraction of an even greater abstraction we call nature."

He rose from his kneeled position and began to circle the veiled object with methodical footsteps. By this time the vast majority of his robes had become enveloped in the glyphs, an intricate weaving of visual elements that dazzled the senses. There seemed to be a light glowing within each symbol's depths and it eerily mirrored the rhythm of his movements.

"We make claims at an apprehended identity. On what does this apprehension depend? An observer? Does there exist an eye so mighty to behold all? If so, what would we look like to such a being? What would we say to the Divine, when we are Nothing within its scope? When the insignificance of your existence must be accented with a futile search for meaning, an act of hubris in which we are all complicit."

He stopped after having completed five circuits around the installation, whose veil turned tumultuously as if caught in a storm. Xo'pil turned and raised his staff to the cloth, the length of its gnarled wood having succumbed to the runes and laid it against the diaphonous material. The denoument had arrived and the rate at which events were culminating was accelerating. He could feel it deep within himself that the trajectory of his life would deviate wildly after tonight's initiation. The symbols virulently transferred surfaces and was the catalyst for his speech's crescendo. Xo turned to face those gathered, lush patches of his indigo coat becoming more pronounced as his robe began to fall away in a manner reminiscent of dying leaves.

"I see this, but I do not see my sensations of it. What I see will always remain, no matter how much its image may be turned or altered. I'll always have the same content of consciousness. Although very different contents may be experienced, the object which is perceived remains the same. In whatever way we may be conscious of the world as universal horizon, as coherent universe of existing objects that are constantly active on the basis of our passive having of the world. This is true not only for me, the individual ego; but rather we."

There was the distinct sound of shattering coming from the veil as the morpheme completed etching itself upon the entirety of the structure's surface and layers of the statue began to fall away in large shards until beneath it all there remained a floating and pulsating eye carved out of a crystalline substance that seemed to act as a plasma but retained the appearance of substance, albeit one whose inner dimensions contained dizzying depths.

"When stripped of ideological veils, the imperatives of autonomous subsystems make their way into the lifeworld from the outside- like colonial masters coming into a tribal society- and force a process of assimilation upon it. The diffused perspectives of the local culture cannot be sufficiently coordinated to permit the play of the metropolis and the world to be grasped from the periphery. Consciousness is fragmented into the twin demons of alienation and false consciousness. Let me show you what lays beyond such primitive understanding."

The word came to life within the folds of the eye, its luster caught in endless reflections. And from the darkness erupted a chorus of bellows.

No God's Sky

He experiences a terrifying moment, (or is it an age?) in which the light of reason is extinguished, only to awaken to the soft kiss of light as he is thoroughly scanned. A set of dulled golden eyes whose lids still feel heavy and strained from untold horrors slowly open. A chill wind whistles through the surrounding garden as a frighteningly complex system of binary switches provides him with an all-encompassing yet confining illusion of what life truly is. He has walked the tightrope across the gulf that exists between mortal and the divine. He had communed with... something. Not with words, but with images; each a reflection of a greater illumination. But before he can begin to reflect on the gravitas of what has been imparted to him, he becomes keenly aware of presences in the room and the splitting pain that came crashing down upon him.

Xo'pil's vision swims in and out of focus as he begins to take stock of his surroundings. The room is filled with the hunched forms of several Q'ush as they quickly conversed in their native tongue, a rapport of hisses and clicks being exchanged between two while the others await a decision to be made, gawking at the masterpieces that adorned the room. If Xo was more familiar with their language, he would have found amusement in their confoundment as they deliberated on how best to begin transporting the pieces before them to Ec-Shavar's estate. Forked tongues slipped between thin lips as their eyes darted back and forth, reflected in them a cascading pattern of light. Its source was an aqueous amphora, its dimensions in an ever-shifting dance as crystalline rings orbited it upon a twisted axis. A curious claw was extended towards it, only to recoil in anguish as the vase's caustic components scalded its owner.

"Like most objects of immeasurable beauty, it is often best to admire from a distance lest the cost of such beauty immediately become apparent."

The voice, or more over the approximation of a voice, brings with it all the quality of an orchestral production. It began with percussive intensity that melted away into melodious intonations. Xo rises from his recumbent position as the speaker makes himself visible. In the center of the room, behind the startled saurians, was a scintillating shaft of sanguine and across its surface rippled a wave of transmogrification. The soft beating of countless wings whispered to them as the pulsating form of Plangó Felho'Te-vesztø fully manifested itself.

"I've already made all the necessary arrangements for transport. Outside are two kukull who will handle your duties. Leave us."

There were no objections from the crouched Q'ush as they vacated the room, attempting to console their injured companion. Their presence was, in turn, replaced by that of witless automata. Without instruction they immediately set themselves to the role of stevedore, albeit in a disconcerting fashion. One of the golems was composed of a viscous ferrofluid, Xo surmised, as he watched it envelop the floating amphora and encase it in a translucent orb within its bulking mass. It slithered on towards the next piece until it resembled a band of glowing jewels suspended in churning ink, until it oozed its way out into the courtyard, a magnetized patina left in its wake.

The hushed warble of Huilo's anti-grav thrusters distracted Xo'pil from his musings as he wondered if he could dismantle the golem and use it for a future sculpture. The dual-pyramidal drone had not ceased in monitoring his vitals and was expressing its concern over its conclusions via a series of chimes that went ignored for the time being. He stood and faltered, his legs giving out beneath his weight as he steadied himself with an outstretched arm.

"I would tell you to rest but we've hardly the time for such pleasantry. You're the absolute talk of the city, little prince, or at least part of it. First you go off into the Veldt without so much as an upstream for the feeds only to disappear tor days.Then you show up looking like you've been through Ghot, clutching a cluster of eggs and surrounded by one of your toys, undoubtedly broken."

His thoughts turned to Epit'li. The last memory he had of her was her voice beckoning him as he was in the thrall of something awful. He began to protest, seeking to voice his concern when Plangó continued.

"You've been unconscious for hours while this one here dutifully fretted over you. We have little time before we must be elsewhere and I would prefer if you be as straightforward as possible. I will ask as simply as I can, what happened?"

And so Xo'pil began to recount what he remembered to his mentor, pausing often to collect his thoughts and find the words that would best describe what he had experienced. At times this proved to be a difficult task, yet he found a familiar sense of satisfaction in the process, as if it were a sudden surge of inspiration when brush met canvas. The fluttering mass was a polychromatic dreamscape as it listened to the Azot's tale, its thoughts only hinted at in the shifting hues.

"You've given me much to ponder, little prince, and I am sure there is no need to say this, but for posterity's sake I will be blunt. Tell no one else of what happened. It'll be a simple affair to concoct another tale to explain your disappearance and sudden return. Zöld'nach has been privy to several events in the past few days that'll aid in our deception. Just yesterday a kukull suffered some sort of paroxysm and smashed our dear Ulu'gol. Not into a paste, mind you, but close enough to crack that stubborn Alakast's carapace. Do be kind to him, tonight, I hear he's ever so embarrassed. Nothing new to show for his labors, armed only with what pieces he'd brought with him.

A minor tale of debauchery and artistic excess should suffice in obfuscating the truth of your journey. By tonight the sycophantic lot will be tittering behind your back while fawning over you. Try not to grimace."

With a kaleidoscopic burst of light and warmth, the beating wings were consumed in a whirling inferno and Plangó's presence was gone, replaced with the faint scent of smoldering incense. And just like that, Xo'pil was alone.

***

Moments later a similar eruption only inversed began to coalesce and through sheer tyranny of will Plangó Felho'Te-vesztø manifested himself halfway across the city, shadows dancing across the opulent furnishings of his quarters before coming to a halt as the effulgent entity fully corporealized. Stepping out from within the non-euclidean depths of diaphanous insects was a being made of starstuff. The bulk of his form was an atramentous void that absorbed the resplendent glory of the burning pillar that was but an aspect of his visage. Bands of swirling cosmic might streaked across the inky expanse and trickled across the surface of everything he interacted with. A tablet of volcanic stone was grasped in its hands and the motif engraved upon it was one of renewed importance: a beam erupting from an orb swept up in a maelstrom, the terrible likeness of abyssal horrors encircling the beam.

And the soft sigh of satisfaction echoed slightly through out the chamber.

***

The torrential downpour that so regularly enveloped the Veldt and the lower expanses of Zöld'nach had diminished to a fine rain at this height, and as Xo'pil sat peering through the viewport of the shuttle he was on he mindlessly traced the fine bands of shalam that shone through the mists as rain met the heat of the caldera the heart of the city had been built around. They continued to ascend until all was engulfed in the somber miasma and for minutes they flew through darkness until cresting a ring of cragged peaks, to which they were suddenly met with several brightly lit landing pads, a number of shuttles already in the process of depositing their wealthy cargo.

He was led across windswept runways, the occasional bead of rainwater crashing against the force-field emitted by the escort drone that directed him to a series of lifts that descended into the brutally majestic manse of Ec-Shavar. Xo'pil's eyes widened as he anxiously tugged at the cowering tips of his cloak's collar. It seemed more like a nightmarish vista than a home; illuminated spires which sought the starry heavens protruded from artificial pools of superheated liquids. Espaliers of fiber-optic vines strangled the hewn-stone walls of the Cizran-made valley, their sprawl interrupted intermittently by reflective lenses of magnificent size. And in the center of it all was a trio of domes, each adorned with an apocalyptic array of weaponry.

As he sought to take in as much detail as possible he was momentarily engulfed in darkness as the lift descended past the estate grounds and into an underground rail system. He groaned and, for the first time in what felt like too long, Xo felt like himself.

"What's next? Moving stairs?"

***

After an uneventful ride through drab tunnels, Xo'pil found himself at the center of festivities. Or at least at their threshold. He stood before two massive doors of masterfully carved shalam. Its glow was muted through a talented frosting technique that gave it a subdued sense of horror. Or was it the subject matter? As the mineral's bands of light pulsed along the door's surface, it illuminated a familiar scene of devastation; depicting a dread Konul descending, death in its wake. To its side stood the hulking form of a gilded arthropod, prismatic patterns glimmering across a massive golden claw. A highly modulated voice bubbled up from a set of mandibles as it requested his credentials.

Xo involuntarily shivered as he provided it with his invitation; and with the slight hint of brine it was taken in a vestigial claw that appeared from its abdomen. This was followed by a mighty groan as the doors began to part and he heard his name being announced to the guests within. Gathering his wits, he stepped forward into the throng and was immediately lost to a myriad of sensations.

Immediately past the doorway the space had been dedicated to the flesh-sculptors of Cizra Su-Lahn and their various apprentices. He wandered past masses of conjoined viscera, pulsating and throbbing with the rhythm of tribal drums, a fine marriage of the two cultures. He stopped and falsely admired a titanic set of lungs transformed into a series of bellows that produced horrid belches. Xo reached out and took notice of a passing tray, removing from it a mouthpiece with capsules protruding from either side, one filled with a swirling cloud of vermillion vapor while the other held an emerald mist. Turning a valve, the two chemicals were aerosolized and inhaled deeply into Xo's lungs.

Waves of euphoria washed over him as he wound his way through the now vibrating multitude. It felt as if the fringes of his being were becoming more fluid, latching on and mixing with the ever-shifting sights and sounds of the enormous studio. He peered through the violent haze of all these beings, brought together into one room and let loose upon a phantasmagoric pilgrimage. He saw freshly injured Ulu'gol, hovering with the aid of several servitors as he was encircled by a troop of garishly garbed forest of admirers; half-heartedly answering questions and acknowledging compliments. As Xo nears he overhears a shrill voice ask for an explanation to a series of dyed meats that were suspended by gossamer webs and giggled at the unenthused response of "social integration".

Before he could move closer and engage Ulu'gol in a bit of exasperated dialogue, the sound of trumpets filled the air as every head turned towards the source.

"Esteemed visitors and delegates, artists and patrons, your host, Governor Ec-Shavar!"

No God's Sky

Something stirs here, beneath the limpid waters of a primordial lake. Its stirring is sudden and violent, in stark contrast with the placid surface. Its depths are one of the first sources of life on primal Q'ab and the events which transpired were to set the scene for millennia of evolutionary change.

The placidity is disturbed by something alien and nameless. It reeks of brackishness; of decay. In its wake all is consumed. Its presence is keenly felt, eukaryotes fleeing from the churning waters; their escape is futile. Something stirs here, and now it emerges.

A roiling mass of microbes erupt forth from the surface. It rises to its full height in the lake and its splash echoes within the silence of a barren landscape. Its shape flows, a viscous nightmare of liquid flesh washing over the embankment and spreading outwards from the now fetid pool. A patina of putrefaction is left behind it as it moves forward in violent lunges, seeking fodder for its corruption. Its hunger, no... my hunger knew no bounds.

An intricate latticework of light emblazoned itself across his consciousness as he faltered from the waves of information that crashed against his mind. Xo'pil could not begin to fathom the intricacies of the attempts being made to communicate with him; all he knew was that it felt like his psyche was fraying as he struggled to differentiate himself from the alien presence he felt within.

He... It continued to undulate across the terrain, single-minded in focus when an explosion erupted forth from the heavens, stellar detritus streaking across the sky before bombarding the planet. Its slick flesh, awash in an unguent ooze, shone bright when the form of a massive ship suddenly breached Q'ab's atmosphere. More explosions closely followed suit, and for the first time a new sensation bubbled to the surface of its mind. Fear.

"What... what is this? What am I seeing?"
"Tzin..." The voice bubbled forth, the speed of the sound distorted so that its pitch slowed and changed.
"Epi! Where are you? Where are we?"
"Tzin, is that you?"

Tentative feelers brushed at the fringes of his delirium. And for a moment, he was no longer there. He was elsewhere, returned to the ruins he had been exploring. He passively observed himself as his body rushed through sunken chambers and blocked passageways. He watched as he sent the form of a snapping beast thrashing with a vibratory blast from a wand. It flailed helplessly as it fought to upright itself. His hand reached out to push back an ancient barrier when something like a dark and polished stone crashed into his mind, shattering the image with ripples like the disturbed waters of a wading pool. The shadows of the room began to spiral and he clutched desperately at his train of thought. A black thread in an even blacker landscape.

The cold shock of mental immersion leaves me drowning in its alien intelligence and bottomless memories. Its thoughts, a diatribe scrawled in light, slams into my mind and sends me reeling before its terrible force. I sank beneath infinite fathoms of rapidly distorting fractals of energy.

It was here that he felt it. It had changed. It pulsed with a timeless, geologic rhythm. Eons had passed and he once more found himself on Q'ab. The presence he strove so hard to define had evolved, becoming the supreme architect of all life that arose. No longer was the planet a barren hellscape; lush vegetation blanketed the entirety of each continent. To it, all life seemed like threadlights of argent splendor; clusters of swirling orbs suspended in a vine-wrought cosmos. The sensation was mesmeric and overwhelming. The presence held no contradiction; only the pulse. Q'ab pulsed and shuddered with life and death; tide and magma.

Xo watched as it dug savage furrows deep within the planet's mantle, enriching the elements that would one day become shalam. He watched as it spiraled down to the ocean floor, catalyzing tectonic shifts that caused volcanic peaks to surge forth from the churning sea. And from one of these freshly birthed peaks was belched a beam of radiance that dissipated in the upper atmosphere. He strained as he attempted to decipher a narrative from the flood of information when once more his surroundings melted away.

"Tzin, our neural interface is degrading at an alarming rate. Energy levels are nearing critical."

I feel the prison of corporeality once more, essence tethered to being. My hands, not beneath my control, reach into my satchel and remove three discs which are immediately thrown and explode upon impact. Then, in a blinding instant, the solid earth is tugged from beneath my feet and something monstrous, without hands, lifts me up and shuffles me like a deck of cards. And I am gone.

The physical world unfolds into a shape beyond mathematics. I try to close my eyes, but I have none. I was a signal flickering through a vast network exchange of roots and tendrils. A golden orb, recoiling between bumpers of pulsing crimson. I become lost in a gallery of oppressive and uneasy forms my mind is too flat to grasp.

I begin to flex my muscles and the mountains ripples like water. Fledgling cities fall to my stirring. I bunch my fists and the soil convulses. My offspring that I had spent countless millennia guiding sought refuge from the madness. I shrug my vast and buried shoulders and the seas are upturned. The skies crack with streaks of lightning as torrential rains pour down upon me. I lift my head to the heavens and scream, and from my mouth erupts an apocalyptic stream of energy that tears through the atmosphere and is sent to seed the heavens. Substance and space melt before me as I travel with the beam on its epic trek. I am humbled by the vacuum's awful assault of nothing and nowhere.

Time buckled and I know not how long I journeyed before I found myself hurtling towards a gaseous giant. It was in the same apocalyptic throes long distant Q'ab had been in. Its atmosphere was obscured by billions of reflective particles that caught me in their splendor, before magnifying my essence and sending nanoscopic bits of it across the vast expanses of the universe.

For a moment I understood just how very small my largest thoughts had been. And I knew terror.

I hear myself thinking, asking.... what is this? And in my mind, another answers.

"Doom."

Its voice tolls, deep and sad and alone.

And I am awake.

No God's Sky

i feel like the thread is advancing enough to where new characters and plot elements can be introduced fluidly.

if anyone is interested in joining either side of the story at this time please feel free to say so here or in the main thread.

No God's Sky

"Xo'pil-tzin," darkness had settled when an androgynous and synthesized voice undercut the dull doldrum of thunder that seemed to bore into his mind. His response, thought picked up by subdermal implants which vocalized the unconscious tremors of his throat, was an inquisitive grunt. Rarely did Epit'li use honorifics.

The faint glow of the broadcast screen cast a diffused orb in thickening mists as Xo checked on her feed. She had traveled some distance from him, following a steep decline in the landscape that formed a gulch between it and a rising mound of trees and stone. It was here that Epy had come across a series of ruins. She had begun the task of mapping out the structures when from within range of her microphones she picked up the cry of an orana.

"There is some interference and I can't triangulate the source of the call."

Xo was already en route, the unusual length of his limbs lending alacrity to his movements along the boughs of the Veldt. Epy initiated surveillance measures and retreated some distance into the canopy, awaiting further instructions while he closed the gap. He came to a halt, bare soles pressed against the bole of an arboreal titan. The visuals on his forearm ran through various filters as she continued to process the data, a real-time map of the ruins and surrounding woods appearing at the left of the feed. The source of the call was located an estimated 300 shari inside of the hill.

Ping me, he thought and she complied, emitting an inaudible sound wave visually represented as a ripple on his screen. It bounced off of stone and plant, granting him a topographical overlay of the area. Xo leapt from the treetops, landing silently amongst tall grass. He retrieved an impeccably white rod from his sack and gave it a twist, a ring of light dancing along its length only to rise into the air with a dull crack before dispersing.

An ill breeze crept forth from the depths of a crumbling archway as he explored, his fur bristling with every cautious step. The remains of a shattered portcullis leaned against the opening, shielding it from cursory glances. Pebbles danced amongst the stones in his wake, the sound of their falling audible only to him in the constant rumble of thunder. Here. Epit'li descended from the eaves and hovered above his head and at either side, emitting a halo of light that cast a brocken specter against the rising hillside, its form distorted by the mist and trees.

I want a five shari lead and a five shari tail along with my escort. With each command, the corresponding modules fell into formation and they began to work their way into the structure. Time had damaged much of the stonework and little could be gleaned from its carvers.

Pity. If these are early Qush ruins I might've found artifacts from the Plinharim War.
Pindrahim, Epy corrected.
Whatever. The last work commemorating a century long genocide against twelve-legged mollusks netted a fortune.

They had entered a vestibule, half-flooded and teeming with wildlife. Small amphibious creatures were plucked from the waters by half ni long centipedes that dangled from budding mangroves. Beams of Epy's light gleamed off their carapace, the only betrayal of their camouflage.

With preternatural grace, Xo scrambled across the twisting roots and wove his way across the antechamber, the soft hum from Epy mimicking his movements replacing long-distant birdsong and rolling thunder. His path ended with fallen stones that blocked the following hallway. Xo'pil examined the rocks for a moment before climbing up them. There was an opening just wide enough between the collapsed rocks and the ceiling for him to squeeze through after shouldering the rod he had been holding, the polyweave of his jacket bonding instantly to it.

Breaking formation, he sent the AI to explore ahead while he worked his way through the uneven length of the hall. He cursed internally at the sound of his pack dragging behind him and swore he heard a chuckle from her. Left in twilight, he continued to crawl on his belly, occasionally having to painlessly dislodge his shoulder or elbow from its socket as he went. After some time he fell forward onto the remains of a column in a chamber far larger than the previous yet equally as dilapidated. His steps were muffled slaps against dampened stone. The humidity made the air oppressive and his senses were flooded by the heady scent of fungi and stagnant water. His head swam and he pulled the lapels of his jacket closed.

Ping.

Once more Epit'li emitted a sonic wave, only to be met with a series of guttural bellows and the waters began to imperceptibly roil.

Tzin..

Initiate neural uplink. <<Uplink established.>> I want active cloaking on the polyweave and need you to activate the hard light converters. Xo gave the shoulders of his jacket a tug and as he pulled away, the material duplicated itself until long enough to be pulled over his head as a hood. He immediately disappeared amongst the stones of the fallen column, repositioning himself along the wall farthest from the pool.

There, in the center of those columns we have detected a nest. They seem to be buried beneath a mass of... fungus. Origin unknown. It's emitting a bioelectric field that is interfering with my sensors.

Xo'pil's gaze scanned across the waters and through the haze saw the faint glow of the fungus through swaying reeds. He deftly scaled the wall of the room, his digits finding every crevice and pulling him upward in bounds. With a powerful push he soared over the now frothing waters and reached out, gripping a column that rose from the depths and connected to the ceiling. He wrapped his tail around the pillar, freeing his hands to retrieve a set of goggles. Securing them beneath the hood, he set a marker over the mass for the AI to convene on at his command. Being fed data through the neural interface from all three of Epy's nodes felt like having a knife wedged into his brow so he restricted the feed to the center module.

Xo worked his way to the center of the room, barely pausing at each column until he was one leap away from the submerged ring of pillars. The fungus was bioluminescent and gave off strange readings, seemingly pulsing with life. He removed the rod he had affixed to his shoulder earlier and gave it a reassuring squeeze before bounding once more over the waters, DANGER immediately streaking across his feed.

Epy had been designed with several runes layered throughout her interior and was augmented by a highly advanced probability engine which gave her limited precognition with responsive synaptic impressions. Normally she would have given him an earlier warning, but the feedback from the fungus delayed her functions.

HARD LIGHT! HARD LIGHT!

Three beams of light were projected the orbs, forming a hexagon with the density of 20 on the Mohs scale. He twisted in midair, gracefully landing atop the shimmering construct as the quivering mass of reeds erupted into the raging form of an orana. It crashed against the impromptu shield and let out a roar in confused agony as Xo flew upward from the force, , a cloud of spores filling the air.

He twisted once more, turning his form to cling at the ceiling with all four limbs. Firmly gripping the stone with his toes and using his tail for balance, Xo'pil took aim with the rod and shot forth a burst of electricity, the crack from the discharge reverberating through the chamber. He fused the lapels of his jacket to the hood in a vain attempt to keep out the spores but he had already begun to cough violently.

His world began to reel, sound seemingly catching up to him in waves as he went between bouts of total silence and deafening cacophonies. His thoughts ran away from him and he fought to focus on the thrashing beast beneath. He giggled as he noticed that what he had mistaken for reeds were actually large quills pocked and emitting the shrillest of whistles as the orana snapped at the air, sensing his presence through some unknown means.

Find me a way. A way out. Ooouuuttt. Amongst cresting waves of a wine-colored sea, a tangerine sun melting into the horizon. Son? I have none. That's what he always said. Too clever, he thought. Too worried about the then I couldn't appreciate the now. Kinesic override. I remember riding that first shuttle as a stowaway. Azot finally looked as small and constricting as it had always felt.

Consciousness was slipping away from him as Epit'li's kinesic system engaged with a constriction of the polyweave. As he stood upon a precipice, staring out into an inky darkness he wrangled one last thought into coherence.

Don't forget the eggs.

Hours later Xo'pil's provincial attache waited nervously for him in his quarters as the time for Ec-Shavar's gala drew nearer. He rose with a start as Xo's body stumbled into the room, his polyweave suit rent and partially in tatters. The material was already in the process of repairing itself as Epy disengaged the kinesic override and immediately shut down, the orbs clattering around him as he too fell.

"Tarq..." the attache sighed.

No God's Sky

I'm interested in getting involved! Perhaps as a first stab, developing a character that's a member of the civilization on Q'ab? Is that a role somebody else is already filling? Do we already have some details on the folks on Q'ab (or someone developing them)?

@Arborescence

q'ab and its inhabitants are my creation. right now i am working on the history of the species as it relates to the plot we have discussed amongst the thread's vanguard. physiologically they are descended from an amphibian progenitor species that split evolutionarily from the planet's current apex predator, the orana. think of a sedan sized salamander with enormous spines that act as defense and camouflage.

we are all open to new ideas and if you are interested in helping develop q'ab skype would be the best way of going about it.

No God's Sky

The soft, dry snaps of branches breaking underfoot accented the hushed brush of cloth over foliage. Muffled and mellifluous birdsong came to him from a great distance, his passing undoubtedly an event worth music. Polished and treated, a shaft of wood parts a collection of vines and a hooded figure moved out of the treeline to peer over a mighty precipice. Vast and verdant, the Veldt spread across the scope of his vision to meet the austere heights of Zöld'nach, the Jade Fortress, capital city of Q'ab. The city's scale was magnificent. Seemingly cut from the surrounding mountain range, veins of coveted shalam pulsed with energy, powering it and the surrounding midlands. The emerald effulgence peaked through the constant veil of fog and rain that gave the Veldt an unparalleled and terrible beauty. The weald permeated a sense of great age, wisdom and even greater... loss.

It must have been the torrential rains that gave rise to the notion. Ever since his arrival over two cycles ago, the deluge had not relented. Xo'pil had spent nearly the entirety of that time sequestered in his studio in Zöld'nach's Ayatel District; his patron having assumed he'd be afforded more leeway with his... eccentricities if he was housed in the artisan quarter. Although Xo felt it had less to do with sensitivity for his peculiar proclivities and was more to ensure that a lowly Azotl wouldn't fill one of the Governor's guest rooms with the heady musk his species had gained much ill repute over.

His chest rose as he drank deeply of the brisk air, much as he had done on his balcony which overlooked a terrace garden, its precise patterns etched from the very mountains itself. Often, he'd be lost in thoughts, seeking inspiration for the Governor's commission as his eyes traced the network of glowing capillaries of shalam that gave the rich topiary of the garden an uncanny semblance of life.

Here, the air was untouched by the heavy perfumes and incenses sold below his loft; the rich scents of cooking meats and pastries which sent him salivating. Instead, as the slits of his nostrils widened betwixt his brows, the heights of the Veldt brought to him naught but a heady pine smell and the musk of the beast he sought.

Turning away from the cliff, Xo'pil began his preparations. Removing the small pack from his back, he fumbled through its contents until he had produced a thin ream of scrolls bundled together. Passing the ream over his shoulder, Xo's tail unwrapped itself from around his waist and took the scrolls as he returned to rummaging in his bag.

"Ah... here she is." He straightened, in his hands were three orbs with concentric circles of varying size creating unique patterns that were in a constant state of flux. He gave them a playful juggle as he coaxed her awake. "Come on Epit'li, we've work to do." A burst of light flooded forth from the grooved patterns before fading to a constant glow, the AI's version of a stifled yawn as it awoke from standby.

"Be a beauty Epy, and do a scan for any Orana in the vicinity. Huilo is back at the studio compressing the code for the cognitomatrix, so we might as well make a few pieces to sell off-world and get one step closer to never setting foot on another Cizran planet again."

While Epy set off in three different directions, Xo'pil removed one of the scrolls from the bunch and unfurled it, broadcasting a live feed of the drone's information gathering. With a slap against his forearm the malleable screen grafted onto his polyfeed jacket. He stuffed the ream into an inner breast pocket and proceeded to deftly climb up the tree.

Xo would give the occasional glance to his forearm, reviewing Epy's work as he gathered various mosses and heavy vines high above the forest floor. It was this perspective, no matter which hunk of rock he was on, that always flooded his mind with memories of Azot and his youth. Wonderful times, before the Empire came.